


Firebird

by Marinia



Series: Gilded Cage-Series [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (Too Bad He Can't), (yet), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Roman, Choking, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Fae & Fairies, Firebird, Flowers, Gen, Kidnapping, Magic, Roman Is Ready To Throw Hands, nature sprites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinia/pseuds/Marinia
Summary: Even Roman got a flower thrown his way, a pink carnation. He saw so surprised his eyes almost seeming to bulge out of his head. He crushed the pink carnation in his hands, but it didn’t hide their shaking.Roman had worked so hard to find people he belonged to- a ballet company willing to accept him.It was cruel, to have it torn away from him.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Original Character(s), Roman & His Friends
Series: Gilded Cage-Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643770
Comments: 5
Kudos: 76





	Firebird

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC6MmmLKEmA
> 
> Noting down a thank you here, both for Sleepless In Starbucks/ Lia, who beta-read this, as well as for Theotherella, who gave me the prompt in the first place! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome <3

The stage light burned on the dancer’s skin; Roman saw it from his place behind the curtains. He sighed. Small crocuses blooming at his feet, the same colour as the firebird’s costume. The dancer was a sight to behold, merged with their role as the firebird, trying to escape the Prince’s hold and regain their freedom, but never being able to get away from his grasp. 

Seeing them leap and run across the stage, Roman wished nothing more than to be them. Wished to wear the costume and do the steps he already knew by heart. But not yet- not now. He turned away, hands running over his own costume. It was nothing extraordinary, the same thing all members of the corps du ballet wore. Roman both hated and adored it. Hated that it wasn’t anything _more_ , loved that he even got such a chance in the first place. 

The nature sprite had almost given up on joining a ballet company, all of them proclaiming he had _something strange_ about him. It was a complaint which brought the spring sprite both laughter and tears. But this one- this company, this collection of excellent misfits, had given him a place and a role. They might have thunk him a human, but he didn’t mind, preferred it. He’d always adored the idea of being human. 

So he couldn’t help himself when he greeted the firebird with open arms, congratulating Talyn to their performance and basking in the glow of their happiness, preening when they told him he’d be firebird next year. They’d been the one training with him, teaching him the steps and the intricacies to both ballet and the company they’d gotten into. 

Roman kissed them on the cheek as he came on stage for his next dance, dandelions pushing at the soles of his pointé shoes as he went to join the other dancers, in perfect harmony and rhythm. They danced together, all of them in sync thanks to hours and days and weeks spent together, both training and talking. Roman burned under the stage lights, the most exhilarating kind of fire breathing under his skin. 

He did not see the audience, or anything past his fellow dancers, past Valerie and Leo and Adri and Camden. He merged with his character, as minor as it was, until the song ended and it was over and he was behind the curtains again. Joan greeted him with a smile, strained with the stress of organizing a show. “Good work, Roman.” 

The sprite grinned, taking Joan’s hand as he thanked them, pressing hydrangeas into their hands without even noticing as he already ran off to join with the other dancers. Joan smiled while rolling their eyes; they didn’t even bother _trying_ to think of where Roman always hid his flowers. Not that they had much time to waste for such thoughts. Their show tonight was grand and the audience as wealthy as it was expectant. 

Joan turned away again, helping dancers to change their costumes or fix their strict buns and ensuring that all the techies knew where to go and when- and beware any poor soul who risked being seen by the audience. It was hard work, but rewarding too, especially when the audience clapped at the end of the night, rising from their seats and throwing roses to the principal dancers, who were glowing under the attention. Even Roman got a flower thrown his way, a pink carnation. He looked so surprised, his eyes almost seeming to bulge out of his head, Joan noticed with a smirk, before letting the dancer’s leave the stage to get out of the costumes and into their favourite restaurant, to let any stray tension leave their bodies and to celebrate the last show of the week. 

Roman didn’t make any moves to get out of his costume though, backstage and surrounded by chatter. Everyone was happy that the show had been a success. Talyn asked Adri for help getting out of their bright red firebird costume. Roman’s lungs were filled with lead, thinking of his desire to dance their routine, to play the captured firebird himself. He crushed the pink carnation in his hands, but it didn’t hide their shaking. 

He put on normal clothes, once his friends started throwing him worried looks, letting the crumpled, broken flower fall to the ground to be stepped on and flattened into the floor. Maybe that would convince Her to leave him in peace. 

Roman joined the other dancers, somehow hoping to look like a human when they surrounded him like a protective mantle, their lack of care for the fantastic like an assurance of safety. He sat with them, smiling brightly and talking loudly, as eager to make an impression as he’d been the first day he met them. He didn’t think about why, didn’t think about the forest which grew so closely to this restaurant. He was only close to his friends, squeezing their hands and kissing their cheeks and draping himself over them, as if he could brand himself with their mortality, their humanity. As if he could brand himself _theirs_ , their dancer, their friend- 

But the night came to a close, and Roman followed after his friends, on aching feet and with a fearful heart. He came to his room. It was small, still in the inn, he hadn’t even gotten a flat yet. Pink carnations had grown over everything: the bed, the single chair, the vanity, even the floor. Their stench was inescapable. They’d even grown over the small window, rendering it unable to be opened or looked through. Bile pushing against the spring sprite’s lips, and he would’ve hurled, would’ve desecrated this show of possession, but. 

The flowers were moved by a breeze that didn’t exist. Roman could hear a patch growing behind him, taller than it should be able to, vines which didn’t belong to the carnations sprouting just to support the figure’s height, until it was great enough, until it bloomed, and the flowers become a dress, a mantle, a veil. 

“Do you always let your guests wait, little Prince?” The Fae Queen’s voice was fickle, carried through the room only because the air bowed to Her will. He wasn’t worth speaking up for, not to her. Roman was weak, compared to Her. She nearly knocked him to his knees with Her presence alone. 

But he didn’t turn around, didn’t bow or scrape or beg. He sneered. “What have I done to invite Your attention?” The lack of a title was both rude and obvious, and he hoped it infuriated Her. 

She stepped forward, the power She carried enveloping the room, laying over Roman like a blanket, suffocating him as it fell over his body. The Queen smiled, thinly, when Roman started to gasp, to claw at his throat and, eventually, finally, fall to his knees. 

She stepped before him, looking down on his red, wet face. Roman still flinched away when She touched him, the first breath She granted him spent to spit on Her dress. “I won’t go with you. Not now- not ever! I’m outside your domain, I won’t do anything to harm your rule-”

“Oh, but you already did, little Prince,” the Fae Queen crooned. “So many want to follow after you, to treat the humans as companions instead of toys. With you by my side,” Her smile grew cruel with just a twist of Her thin, white lips, “dancing for me and my court. Isn’t that what you want? To dance? I’ll even dance with you, little Prince.” 

Roman shook his head, trying to get to his feet, to escape- the Fae Queen grabbed his wrist, Her skin cold as snow. Her nails dug into his arm, thorns of their own right, pushing poison into his green blood. The marigolds which had grown out of the wooden floor as he tried to run withered away. 

The Fae Queen smiled, seeing Her new companion. She walked into the forest with him, to the clearing which held Her court and the entrance to Her palace. As She did, the human fabrics clothing the sprite washed away, replaced by vines and flowers growing around him, clothing him in a ballet costume made of pink carnation and crocus; Her own little firebird. 

When Roman woke, it was in the Fae Queen’s arms. She sat on Her throne, holding him close as if She cared for him. Roman almost ran, before he noticed _it_. A golden band, wrapped around his wrist, chaining him one of the Fae Queen’s rings. The ring’s red gem shone with power. 

The Fae Queen smiled at him, thin and cruel and _knowing_. “You’re finally awake, my little Prince. Now, dance for me. I’m sure you will be a gorgeous firebird.” She cradled his face, cold fingers like ice and breath like sweet pea. “Not that I’d ever let you go.” She laughed, as if it was nothing but a joke, as the gold band extended to let Roman dance in the middle of the clearing. Cold dread flooded Roman like a riptide, the trap seeming to snap shut with the clicking of gold on his wrist, louder than a gunshot. 

So the sprite went, rising up en pointè as he forced his clenched fists into smoothness and his running thoughts into silence. He vowed to himself to flee, as he danced and leapt and let the Fae Queen catch him. He swore to himself to leave Her with nothing but the burned remains of this clearing and this throne, to shatter the ring She’d used to leash him. 

But before all that, he danced. He danced, and he for the first time in his life he wished to be doing anything else.


End file.
